RP:A Warning Delivered

Part of the Rest in Pieces: Vailkrin! Arc

Summary: Kasyr shows up at Larewen's House, furious about her bounty on vampires. Calling her a baby tyrant, the two nearly exchange blows before coming to a temporary agreement: explanations over dinner.

House Dragana

Larewen sits upon a verdant settee just within the foyer of her manse. For whatever reason, the doors sit open the necromancer’s gaze is fixed on the woods without. She holds a clove cigarette in one hand, puffing it now and then and permeating the air around her with that spiced tobacco scent. Her other hand holds a letter, which she has just finished re-reading for the umpteenth time. Whatever its contents, it appears to amuse her. The elf appears exhausted, her features almost older.

Kasyr has been, until recently, rather out of the loop. It's a logical consequence to vanishing off to attend to unfinished business- and yet, his attempts at finding inner peace have recently met with failure. Ravenous Saurians making Chartsend distinctly more hospitable than it used to is certainly a part of why the Kensai has chosen to emerge from his self-imposed exile, but the more pressing reason was a rather vexing letter sent to him by House Asharam. And it wasn't just because they had know where he was that he was irritated- oh no. "..Maudite Espece de . . ." Even as the swordsman walked along the path towards Lady Dragana's Manse, he went over it's contents once more, one hand absently raking through his hair as he read a somewhat incendiary recounting of recent events, up to and including a copy of the bounty. It's no wonder the Kensai looks so perturbed by the time he reaches the front door and hammers out an abrupt series of knocks upon the door.

Kasyr’s hand only finds air, considering that the manor’s door was already open. Nonetheless, the approach of his form pulls the necromancer from her thoughts. It takes her approximately two seconds to recognize who has arrived and her mismatched eyes widen slightly. Precisely what had brought him here, of all places? The elf wracks her mind, trying to think of something she might’ve done to draw the Kensai’s ire. Nothing in particular comes to mind—she’s too wrapped up in current events to even remember the bounty she’s placed. The marks of a mad woman, no doubt. “Kasyr,” she greets, but her tone is lacking the warmth that was once there. The passage of three years has taken its toll on the woman, on that darkness she once had buried within. What Kasyr would see is something more akin to the woman that had openly attacked him on the street one night…

Kasyr 's intended knocking had been in part out of petulance, but the door spites him all the same. That small defeat aside, the swordsman steps the rest of the way across the threshold, if only to properly take in what he's seeing in front of himself. Certainly, Larewen looks similar to when he'd last seen her- to when she'd acknowledged the advice he'd given her, and yet the woman seated before her looks... off. There's a tension under the surface, something in her psyche that seems to have frayed, and a once lurking darkness that seems far more prominent. Despite himself, he feels his hackles standing up, her present state recalling a far more volatile time- though to his credit he otherwise maintains a stoic presence. "It's been a long while. Perhaps too long, if recent events are any indication."

It’s the stoic presence that keeps the woman alert and on edge. “Recent events,” the necromancer echoes, rising from her seat. She lowers the letter to the surface of the sofa and draws her cigarette to her mouth for a long drag. Exhaling, she steps nearer to Kasyr. There’s darkness, hiding behind those mismatched eyes. “Yes, too long,” she agrees, her words carefully chosen. “Where have you been?” Larewen treads carefully, watching his face for any change in expression. The Kensai’s warning is still on the forefront of her mind; his promise to interfere should she go nuclear on Vailkrin; should she pose a threat to its current population. And yet, she seems not to process that any of her recent actions, namely the posting of that bounty, could be seen as attention-worthy. At least, not Kasyr’s.

Kasyr stops being stoic long enough to look just plain annoyed, "I -was- enjoying a temporary retirement, practicing as one does. That said, peace and quiet and giant lizards don't really go hand in hand. Et I suppose the suggestion that I might be stirring back into any sort of activity served as some sort of invitation to acquaintances that I should perhaps do something more meaningful with my time." It's here that the Kensai offers Larewen a pointed stare, "Like asking if you've been taking leadership lessons from Vuryal, or if you just decided that the best way to instill loyalty in the local Government was to place a fiscal bullseye on the populace." Kasyr's hands very briefly clench, before he relaxes them and offers the lady a ponderously slow bit of applause, his expression utterly dissapointed. "I know we haven't had a Civil War lately, but were politics really so dry you needed to stir things up yourself?"

Larewen arches a brow, clearly startled by Kasyr’s application. Of course the Houses would extend their lies to him. And of course her actions, as a whole, would be misconstrued by more than just her fledgling! Her cigarette lowers as the elf shakes her head, dark tresses bounding with the movement. Her eyes closed for a moment and when she reopened them, she walked back to where she had been sitting and lowered herself once more. “I assume then, you were not informed as to what began the hostilities between myself and the Houses,” the elf replies. “Your precious aristocracy created this problem when they framed me for the slaughter of innocents. A bounty is my challenge to them. Why else offer more on the head of my own house? It was a challenge, to attest to my strength.” And that was where things had gone wrong. Because her fledgling had put her in her place, openly and pubically… then joined House Nasar. Here, Larewen grimaces slightly. “I bear no ill will toward the Houses, save that they be held accountable for their actions. And this letter—“ she holds up the one from Elioyahazer “—proves one house, in particular, will be.”

Kasyr is well practiced at keeping his emotions under the surface, betraying very little of the rage that helped to drive him here so swiftly, and yet even he can't quite cover up the manner in which his shoulders sag at her clarification of the situation, as his mind starts to go over her logic. He cannot help but find himself staring at her again, doing his utmost to appraise her current demeanour, even as he endeavours to scrutinize what bits of information his empathic senses might allow him to glean. "...You put a target on -every- single vampire in the city. You made the genocide of ou.. your people a profitable venture for any sociopathic bravos looking to test their mettle or fatten their purse. And the object of your 'challenge' did not even extend solely to vampires associated within the houses." When the swordsman exhales, it's a slow and deliberate process his hands coming to firmly clasp in front of himself, "A tournament would have been a challenge. A -duel- would have been one. Outdoing one of the houses at the works they pride themselves. ...This? Madamoiselle Larewen? This is folly, that only serves to empower the enemies of the city. I can barely imagine anything that would have made the Cenril church Happier than this string of events, short of news that I died, or the city spontaneously caught fire."

Larewen regards Kasyr for a long moment. “And yet the Cenril church has done nothing,” the necromancer returns. “We are not feared. We choose to live in peace, like humans instead of the predators we are. Is your faith so few in our kind that you think us unable to defend ourselves? I have taken on hatred from both sides to get a point across, and the only repercussions I’ve faced is being bested by my own fledgling. Do you know what loyalty is, Kasyr? You were king. And even you became so bored with how mundane it was, that you purposed for yourself your own exile. The undead are a laughing stock, and I refuse to sit by and let that image remain. Let them think I’m mad. Let them hate me. As long as it gets something from them. A reason to fight, a reason to garner more strength for themselves.” She sighs then, raising a hand to the bridge of her nose and squeezing the flesh there. “Our kind have become weak, and I am ashamed to call myself a vampire.”

Kasyr goes deathly still, lips pressed together into a thin line, one of his canines gradually digging into his bottom lip. "Publically. That you're aware of. But let's offer that, perhaps they are, relatively well behaved at this juncture, and less prone to outright -open- hostilities." His jaw clenches slightly, his right hand starting to tense up. " It does not -boil- down to faith in any case, however. It boils down to duty, and To what the office you seek even means. Leadership does not mean you are justified in creating a crucible for the city to be tempered in, because you've decided things are too docile for your own liking." There's also a faint scent of something- perhaps even familiar with Larewen as it might be reminiscent of a rainstorm, though faintly unpleasent- pungent, even. " I was Loyal to this goddamn city, which is why I'm so incensed to come back and see all the trappings of a mad tyrant, in a -FLEDGELING- state." For just a moment, there's a crackle of light running up along his arm- a hot white spiderweb of something so quick it might be mistaken for a trick of the light. "Is this -really- why you wanted to rule?"

Larewen blinks at Kasyr. Silence hangs thickly in the air as she does so. The elf knows what may be coming and instead, she stands once more. Whatever distance lingers between the two is closed, as if daring for his hand around her throat, as if daring for him to attack her. The elf is definitely not the same woman that had sat down with him in secret so long ago to discuss his abdication; she’s something else entirely. Only shreds of that humanity remain. “Your loyalty,” she growls, “was not to this city. Or you would still be sitting on the throne.” Her words are spoken in a near hiss, as if she blames him for what has happened. “You created a place, and you abandoned it. Redhale abandoned it. And I intend to rebuild it, no matter the cost, into what it once was.” She reaches out, fingers seeking to snare the wrist upon which lightening just crawled up. “I will bring glory to Vailkrin and her people. Because a life of stagnancy is not one worth living.”

Kasyr finally feels his canine slip through his lip about the time she finishes her speech, serving as the final justification for him to relinquish control of the electrical energy that's been gradually welling up inside him. It's such a pure and simple act, made all the easier by the conduit that Larewen helpfully provided by taking hold of his wrist- allowing him to channel all the energy directly into her form. A conduit the Kensai is not particularily willing to give up either, as his other hand rushes out to take hold of her wrist while the initial shocks are hopefully taking hold- to ensure that any attempt to wriggle out meets an abrupt dead end. "Did you think I did it for fun? That I brought stability, and order, and -endured- the endless prattling and politics because I somehow -relished- the task of being king? I did what was necessary after watching those in power drive this city to ruin. To the brink. I'll not sit back idly while you drag it back onto that course." If Larewen hasn't found a means to extricate herself, it's about this point where things abruptly become -worse-, as the Kensai begins to pool a secondary source of energy into the lightning surging from his being; specifically the divine energies that were invested in him as Daedria's chosen. "Who -are- you to decide that for the rest of the city? For those who -scrabbled- to cling to life so hard that they would risk damnation. If you have such a death wish I. CAN. GRANT. IT."

Larewen prepares for this reaction from him; she could see the magic practically bristling from his form through her right eye. The sheer stench of ozone is enough to curl her nose. And then comes the brunt of holy magic, tearing into her very being. Defiant, the woman stands strong, fingernails curling into his flesh as he returns her grip to hold her in place. The ones of her left hand tear through cloth, exposing yet another curse that the elf has acquired over his absence. Rotting, decayed flesh that is more akin to the ghoulish appearance of their undead brethren. Shadows curl out from beneath where her flesh touches his. Even as her insides alight in divine agony, the necromancer’s mouth spews forth a curse of rot and decay. Her jaw clenches until fangs pierce her lips. “I will prove the superiority of the dead, or die trying, Kasyr,” she growls.

Kasyr may have been reckless to a legendarily degree during his stint as ruler, yet, he had not always won his battles through overwhelming might. With the more recent return of his pulse, the Kensai thus errs more upon the side of caution as cursed flesh and tainted energy becomes present- choosing that moment to contort the very energies he's wielding, altering the electricity stored within his form so that it violently opposes that which he's been forcing into Larewens blighted form. Even weighed down by his trenchcoat as he is, the ensuing backlash of force that bursts between them is more than enough to send him sliding back into the wall adjacent to the door with the raucous sound of splintering wood- and a nasty gash the length of his wrist where her nails sheared through flesh. Which leaves Larewen equally at the subject of the sudden violent burst of equal and opposing kinetic force. "Choose your own hill to die on. Fine. Don't drag Vailkrin into it. I do not relish the idea of needing to pick up the pieces."

Larewen is cast in the other direction, landing not against a wall, but rather the obsidian staircase with a loud cracking noise. The tiles spiderwebbed behind her form as her unnecessary breath rattled in her lungs. Gasping with pain, the elf forces herself back to her feet, rolling her neck. “Vailkrin will be every part of it,” the elf replies, her voice low. “And she will rise.” She punctuates each syllable with lurching steps that bring her nearer to the Kensai. “I will not cower.” Her hand raises, the right one this time, as she extends it to Kasyr with every intention of helping him up. Her other hand clutches at her stomach, which aches from the expulsion of such power betwixt them. “When the day comes that my actions spell her end, I will accept my execution accordingly. When I truly become that monster that would damn our city, then you can execute me. Otherwise, I will fight you every tooth and nail.”

Kasyr rests in place he had essentially made for himself, propped against the imprint in the wall he knows occupied. Those sparse few moments he can allow himself to rest are cherished, and yet when Larewen makes her approach, the Kensai rises to extricate himself, to meet her standing on equal terms. "If you truly do not intend to be a calamity upon the city- then -Fix- things. Resolve this current situation, so I am not obliged to. Do your duty to do what's best for it. And do try to avoid taking leadership lessons from tyrants of yore. There's a reason their rules burn so brightly -and- briefly."

Larewen’s mismatched eyes watch Kasyr’s as he stands without her aid. For the briefest of moments, she looks past him and at the wall that would need repairing. At any moment she could have activated her wards, and yet the necromancer did not. “I will end the bounty, but I will not end my assault on those that stand against me. I want peace in Vailkrin every bit as much as you do. Help me, and you’ll soon see the methods beyond the madness.”

Kasyr offers Larewen a brief assenting nod, even as he begins to push his hair back into place, " Then you might want to start by informing me as to your underlining strategy. I told you, once upon a time, that you had my support, so long as you did -not- succumb to the flaws et folly that so often accompanies a crown. Explain it to me so I'll understand." The kensai pauses, to glance at the mess, before he adjusts his coat, "...Maybe over a meal if it's going to be a lengthy chat." Larewen lifts her head slightly in a nod. “Outside Vailkrin, when you’ve the time. It’ll be my treat,” the elf wheezes. “When I’ve recovered. That hurt, you know.” The necromancer cracks the faintest of dry smiles as she turns back toward the sofa and falls down upon it. She leans back, closing her eyes. “You’ll have all your answers then.” With that, the necromancer lifts her hand and waves it slightly. A dismissal, but all the woman can manage presently. She’s pretty sure something inside her shattered.

Kasyr actually cracks a grin at that, managing to evoke a certain boyish charm which at this point is likely more than intentional "Well, it didn't kill you, non? So, we can see about working towards that better tomorrow- without everything catching fire." That said, the Kensai jams his hands into the pocket of his trenchcoat, neatly adjusts the scarf around his neck, and plunges back into the familiar, dismal depths of the dark forest. ...Which is probably the part of Vailkrin he's least fond of, to be fair. Goddamn Spiders.